


le prof charmant mais terrible

by vivelarepublique



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Double Entendre, F/F, Genderbending, Genderqueer Character, High School Teachers, High school teachers AU, Kissing, Lots of French phrases, Lots of teacher-y banter ahead, M/M, Modern Era, Oblivious Enjolras, References to Shakespeare, because Enjolras is a French teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 20:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1278421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivelarepublique/pseuds/vivelarepublique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's midterms season at Corinthe High School, and French teacher Enjolras still isn't quite sure how he feels about their new history teacher, Grantaire. But Enjolras may end up learning more than some of his French I students by the time midterm exams are done and graded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	le prof charmant mais terrible

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whooves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whooves/gifts), [originalpointofview](https://archiveofourown.org/users/originalpointofview/gifts).



> _Le prof charmant mais terrible:_ The charming but terrible teacher.
> 
> In this fic, in order to better adapt it to the modern world, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Joly, and Bossuet are women, so expect she/her/hers pronouns with them. In addition, Jehan is genderqueer and so uses they/them/their pronouns.
> 
> Enjolras _is_ a French teacher, so don't be daunted by all the italics--feel free to Google translate, but you can also find translations of the French used in the end notes. :)
> 
> A shout-out to [Allison](http://masterandcaptain.tumblr.com) for the initial prompt (HIGH SCHOOL TEACHERS AU PLEASE) and fic-writing help. And a thank you to the ever-lovely [Emily](http://grantairely.tumblr.com) for whom this was not only initially written, but who helped me polish this before posting. You guys are the best.

_“Répéter-s’il vous-plait: je suis, tu es, il est, elle est, nous sommes, vous êtes, ils sont, elles sont,”_ a chorus of voices repeated the words, albeit slightly out of sync with one another. _“Très bien._ Now remember, you will have to write out the conjugations of _être_ and _avoir_ as well as the other irregulars we’ve gone over on the midterm Friday. Study and do the exercises for class tomorrow and you should be well-prepared!”

There was a shuffling of chairs and bags and papers as the bell rang. As usual, M. Enjolras was right on time with his lesson and not a second over. A few students hung back to ask questions, nervous about the midterm exam, and Enjolras was happy to help them. Besides, Combeferre was always a few minutes late to lunch, inevitably caught up chatting about the minutiae of whatever writer whose works they were reading in English that semester.

Sure enough, when Enjolras finally did get to the faculty break room, Combeferre had not yet arrived. Grantaire, however, had.

 _“Ah, bonjour, M’sieur Enjolras! Ça va?”_  

Enjolras gave a sigh. _“Oui, ça va. Mais pourrions-nous parler en anglais aujourd’hui?”_

Grantaire was one of the newest members of Corinthe High School’s staff. Enjolras quickly learned that their new history teacher not only spoke English, but French (and Latin and Greek and Italian and Spanish, and a bit of Japanese). This not only gave Grantaire more languages in which to attempt to hold conversations in, but also gave him more ways to perpetually perplex Enjolras.

This was not to say Enjolras didn’t enjoy the challenge or being able to speak rapidfire-French that would actually be given a response other than blank stares. But after a particularly long day in French I, Enjolras needed a break.

 _“Mais bien sûr! Les étudiants_ not quite living up to your high expectations today?”

“I just have an increasingly sinking feeling that their midterms are going to leave much to be desired. I dread thinking of them attempting the imperfect tense.”

Grantaire gave a chuckle. “Believe me, I think my kids’ heads are spinning after the Tennis Court Oath, who knows if they’ll even get anything meaningful from the Reign of Terror. Not that they’ll need to know much for their AP Exams besides the fact that Robespierre went a little overboard,” Grantaire shrugged off.

Enjolras looked dangerously close to a long-winded and passionate rant, but was stopped before he could begin with the entrance of Combeferre and-

“Courfeyrac!” Grantaire said with a broad grin, lifting his water bottle in Courfeyrac’s general direction.

“Grantaire, Enjolras! Fancy seeing you here!” Courfeyrac said with a grin, sporting a yellow-beaded necklace to match her bright yellow skirt. Combeferre was in her usual corduroy blazer, elbow patches looking a little worn for the wear, ascot tie slightly crooked. She smiled at Enjolras and gave Grantaire a nod before the pair sat down at the slightly-wobbly faux-wood table. If there were more money that went into public schools, after getting new textbooks and computers, having a break room table that would accommodate Enjolras’ long legs would be nice.

The lunch passed in easy, amicable conversation. Courfeyrac regaled tales from the class she was substituting in at the moment. 

“Jehan has them doing monologues right now, so it’s easy enough for me to just let them practice. But I think I may have intimidated them a bit with deciding to demonstrate with Orsino’s monologue in _Twelfth Night.”_ Courfeyrac cleared her throat and struck a dramatic pose. “‘If music be the food of love, play on; / Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, / The appetite may sicken, and so die,’ etcetera, etcetera.”

Grantaire gave an impressed whistle. “I must say, I’ve always seen you as more the Benvolio or Beatrice type.”

“Oh, I do love Beatrice, don’t get me _started_ on Beatrice, but Mercutio is so _passionate,_ Grantaire! And Benvolio is much more like-” 

“Sorry, so sorry I’m late!!” As if on cue, in a flurry of papers, Marius came stumbling into the room, somehow still managing to close the door behind him.

“Marius, you didn’t have to take your break now if you were busy!” Courfeyrac laughed. “Especially if you were too busy pacing back and forth in from of the guidance office, working up the nerves to say good morning to Ms. Euphrasie Fauchelevent...”

Marius turned the shade of a particularly ripe tomato. “C-Cosette...She goes by...Cosette...”

“Ooh, on the first name basis now, are we? Don’t let Principal Valjean know.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard he has the strength of ten men...” Grantaire added ominously.

“I’m pretty sure that’s Herakles,” Enjolras said, raising an eyebrow.

Nevertheless, Marius blanched and Combeferre gave a sigh. “Ignore them, Marius. Jean is a kind man. He’s not going to kill you just because you like his daughter.” Marius let out an audible sigh of relief and collapsed at the remaining seat at the table. When Combeferre looked over, Courfeyrac was pouting at him. The former rolled her eyes and set to eating her sandwich.

Seeing Combeferre was not going to indulge her today, Courfeyrac turned her attention to Enjolras instead. “Oh! I am giving you a 48-hour notice.”

Enjolras sighed. After one too many complaints that Courfeyrac never gave him enough notice for social occasions (“No, Courfeyrac, I am not coming over to do shots with everybody _right now,_ I am trying to _sleep.”_ ), Courfeyrac had enacted the 48-hour rule, giving Enjolras two days notice for any social gathering larger than their usual friend group.

“About what?”

“A midterms party!”

“Where we grade our midterms together? Courfeyrac, you don’t even have to worry about those.”

“Shh, never mind that. Anyway, it’s where we get drunk to make grading midterms less annoying!”

Enjolras gave a sigh again. “I’ll think about it.”

Grantaire, who had been attempting not to be too blatantly eavesdropping, but it was a small room, now chimed in. “Even le prof charmant mais terrible needs a break.”

Enjolras scoffed but said nothing witty in reply, opting to open the yogurt he’d packed instead. He would dispute the nickname, but after winning a verbal throwdown with the terrifying Chemistry teacher Mr. Montparnasse a few weeks ago at a faculty meeting, he’d lost all hope of losing the title.

Too soon, the bell rang and the chairs squeaked in a strange harmony as the teachers returned back to their classrooms. Out of the corner of his eye, Enjolras saw Courfeyrac straighten Combeferre’s tie and give her a peck on the cheek. “The students will talk with all that PDA, you two,” Enjolras said with a good-natured smirk.

Combeferre flushed and Courfeyrac smiled in response as the two turned down the corridor towards their respective rooms, heels clacking in unison. Marius was gone in another tornado of papers, back to the administrative offices, leaving Enjolras and Grantaire to trek down to the opposite end of the long, locker-lined hallway.

The two walked in silence; Enjolras never really knew what to say to Grantaire during this strange limbo between the end of lunch and the slow trickle of students back to class. But as Enjolras turned into his classroom, he heard Grantaire whistle. He turned his head to where Grantaire stood in the stairwell, ready to head back up to the history department. _“Bonne chance, Enjolras.”_

Enjolras couldn’t help but smile. _“Merci.”_

**

That Friday afternoon, the break room was abuzz with chatter. Jehan had popped up for a visit and was talking about the upcoming production of _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ with Grantaire and Combeferre and Courfeyrac were having their own _tête-à-tête_ in one corner. When Enjolras arrived, Courfeyrac’s head popped up and she bounded over to him with surprising agility in a sharp black skirt.

“Aren’t you supposed to be subbing in the math department today?”

Courfeyrac gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Details, details. Anyway, are you coming to Grantaire’s tonight?”

Enjolras brow furrowed for a moment. He never realized the party was at Grantaire’s... But he was just another coworker, right? Yeah, a coworker. But regardless, he had work to do. “Oh, the party? I have some other quizzes to grade in addition to midterms and lesson plans t-” 

“Enjolras.” Courfeyrac gave him a Look. “It is Friday night. You have all weekend to grade. You are twenty-five years old.” Enjolras started to open his mouth, but Courfeyrac shushed him and in French that sounded vaguely Italian said, _“Vive.”_ Live.

Enjolras gave a small smile despite himself. “I’ll bring a bottle of red,” he said with a sigh.

Courfeyrac’s smile widened. “Yippee! Alright, Enjolras is in everyone, it is officially a party!”

Enjolras flushed and went to open his mouth in protest, but then Grantaire caught his eye. Something in his stomach stirred. He hoped this was a good idea. It wasn’t that he was on bad terms with Grantaire, but he still wasn’t quite sure how he felt about him. He would easily say he was friends with any of his coworkers, but Grantaire...His relationship with Grantaire felt different.

 _Ça ira,_ he told himself. It’ll be fine. 

**

Years ago, if anyone would have said to Enjolas that a high school teacher party was not much different than a high school party, at one point he would have begged to differ. But if his friend group was any indication, the only thing that had changed about their parties was the legality of the drinking and the quality of the alcohol.

Sure, they were not all as wild as they once were, with the notable exception of Bahorel. But while in high school they had complained about their peers, teachers, and administrators, they now complained about their students, fellow teachers, and administrators. Conversations about the then-terrible curriculum were had evolved into ones about the now-terrible common core. As Enjolras looked to his left, he saw Joly and Combeferre deeply engaged in a what was probably one such conversation, with Bossuet interjecting what were probably bad jokes as they all held half-filled glasses of wine.

Courfeyrac was in a conversation with Jehan that was just as animated because of her personality as it was because of the second beer she held now and numerous shots she had already imbibed. Jehan sipped red wine from a skull mug Grantaire had bought them as a gag gift years ago that had less become a gag gift, and more become a traditional drinking vessel.

Enjolras weaved through his friends, trying to see if Feuilly was there yet, as he had been meaning to discuss a few things about the arts budget at Corinthe, gradually seeing more and more of Grantaire’s apartment. Surprisingly, he hadn’t actually seen the host of the party yet, having arrived with Combeferre and been let in by Jehan, but the apartment was surprisingly clean and yet distinctly Grantaire. The walls were off-white drywall, in some places covered with splatters of paint, alluding to painting projects gone wrong. 

In the far corner of the living room, where nobody had yet wandered, by a worn leather loveseat and a bookcase filled with volumes of Greek and Latin volumes was a corkboard, filled with photos from various faculty gatherings and of random cities. There were also photos from what Enjolras assumed were Grantaire’s college years: a young Jehan at a mic in a bar, reciting something or another, Bahorel at a football game, and in the bottom corner, a rare photo of Grantaire himself: less weather-worn but more scruffy, red Solo cup in hand, making a disgruntled face at the camera.

“See anything you like?” A smooth voice said by his ear. Enjolras jolted upright and turned to see Grantaire standing next to him, unusually drink-less, hands in his pockets, and a smile smile playing on the corners of his lips and in the corners of his eyes.

He stumbled to find his words for a moment. “I always knew you took photos sometimes but I never realized how many.”

Grantaire gave a laugh. “The wonders of digital photography. You have to thank Jehan for bothering to print them out, though. They like them and insisted I should hang them up, then proceeded to buy and install this here.”

Enjolras smiled. “Jehan’s a good friend.”

“Yeah, they are, and I wouldn’t have passed my Russian history class in college without them.”

“So you always wanted to be a history teacher, then?” 

Grantaire gave a shrug. “I always had a good memory for minutiae. Could never decide on one thing, really. Was even a photo major at one point. But then my parents got pissed and told me to study something that I would actually make money in, like science or business. So to piss them off further, I became a history major with a minor in philosophy.” 

Enjolras laughed. “Well, I think it suits you. History, I mean.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow and if Enjolras didn’t know better, he would have sworn he was blushing. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know so much and can teach kids how history isn’t so different from what’s going on today. You have the power to elicit change in a way no other class can, as much as I wish my French classes _did._ And as much as you complain about them, whenever I hear kids talking in my classes, it’s about how well you teach." 

Grantaire raised his eyebrow further.

“Well, and about how much you ramble.”

Grantaire gave a chuckle and Enjolras just now noticed how close the two were to one another. He tried to think of something to say, maybe something that wasn’t just about school.

“Your apartment is really nice.” Enjolras found himself saying. Smooth, Enjolras, smooth.

“What sold you? The creaky floor? The paint-splattered walls?”

“I like it all." 

“All of it? Well, you haven’t seen my-” 

“Oh, look who’s hiding over here! Trying to hide in the shadows now are we? Sneaky!” A jovial voice interrupted. Bossuet wandered over, Joly in tow, their arms intertwined and each holding glasses of wine. Bossuet sported a purple paisley headscarf and Joly’s hair was tucked into a bun, with a few brown curls escaping after a long week full of dissections in her anatomy classes.

“I’m not sure how much more sexual tension Corinthe can handle, you two,” Joly said now, eyes twinkling.

Enjolras huffed and started to say something, but before he could, Grantaire spoke. “Oh don’t worry, I think we’re safe there. Just talking about college days and grading papers. The usual.”

Enjolras felt his stomach lurch, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He wanted to say something, but before he could, Grantaire was off back into the center of the living room, settling next to Feuilly on the couch, leaving Enjolras to chat with Joly and Bossuet, the latter pair happily keeping the conversation flowing easily.

The party went on, and Enjolras indulged Courfeyrac by taking a couple shots with her and got to talk with Cosette for the first time in weeks about how things were going for her in the guidance office. But the whole rest of the night, Enjolras couldn’t shake the feeling Grantaire was watching him and ignored the fact that he couldn’t stop looking at him either.

**

The following two days were a blur of papers and percents, red pen marks and groans from Courfeyrac.

“You didn’t have to help me with grading, you know.”

“I _know_ but I felt _guilty,”_ Courfeyrac moaned. “And you did come to the party, so it was the least I could do.”

Enjolras felt his stomach sink.

“Yeah, I did go, though I probably shouldn’t have.”

 “Oh, c’mon Enjolras, I’m here, the grading will get done, I promise. And if it doesn’t, I’ll threaten any of the students who complain about not getting their exams back, I will.”

Enjolras forced a small smile. “I know you would. But that’s not what I meant. I don’t know, it’s just...Grantaire. I just felt so _awkward_ around him at the party. And I didn’t even say anything weird.”

“So, just checking, but you’re sure you _didn’t_ bring up the French Revolution?”

“No, after the debacle last semester, I’ve stayed away from that. I didn’t even say anything particularly scathing about the administration! I even complimented him! I just want to get to know him better, but...”

“It’s hard.” Courfeyrac whispered softly.

“It’s hard,” Enjolras sighed. “I wonder if he doesn’t like me very much, but he’s just too polite to say so.”

“Hey,” Courfeyrac forced Enjolras to meet her eyes. “First off, anyone who doesn’t like you isn’t worth your time, but Grantaire isn’t one of them. If he didn’t like you, oh, you would know.”

“You think?”

“Oh, I know. And I also know that he likes you more than you realize.”

Enjolras always knew to take things Courfeyrac said with a grain of salt most of the time, but in that moment, he wanted to believe what she said was more than certainly true.

Enjolras was silent for a moment and then snapped himself back into teacher-mode. “Alright, I got us off topic. What did Azelma get on her exam?”

“You work too hard.”

“Grade?” 

A dramatic sigh, then, “16.5/20; 83%.”

“Gavroche?”

“18/20; 90%.”

The grades never seemed to end, but with Courfeyrac’s help and guest appearances by Combeferre, carrying stacks of essays, exams got graded and grades recorded. For once, Enjolras was able to get to bed at a reasonable hour, and when he drifted off, he most certainly did not dream of blue eyes and easy smiles.  

**

Monday morning always seemed to come especially early. Enjolras remembered Combeferre’s tirades in high school about how teenage bodies were not meant to function at such an early hour, and this was never proved truer when he had a first mod full of zombie students. He would say he may as well be speaking a foreign language, but, he was.

_“Félix, es-tu réveillé?”_

_“Quoi?”_ A dazed-eyed, fashionable jock yawned in response.

 _“ **Pardon** ,”_ Enjolras corrected coldly. _“Quittons-nous si tu ne peux pas rester réveillé.”_  

“Aww, c’mon, I only dozed off for a bit. Loosen up, God.”

Enjolras bristled and the other students braced themselves for a deluge of very angry French, but luckily for Felix, the bell rang for lunch, ending the class.

The students filed out in record time, as Enjolras attempted to shout something over the clatter about a reading to do tonight before they all left. Classroom cleared, he grabbed his water bottle, appetite gone, and stalked to the break room. 

He arrived faster than usual, and at the sight of his face, which he supposed was a little less than happy, Jehan and Grantaire halted their ongoing conversation mid-word. “You alright there?” Grantaire asked. Jehan merely gestured wildly at Enjolras to sit down next to them, which he did, albeit with a bit of a huff.

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, if fine means you look like you want to strangle somebody, then you’re fine.”

Enjolras let out a hiss of air from between his teeth. “Just Felix again. Fell asleep in class and then had the nerve to give me an attitude about it. I just can’t stand it-” He broke off with a frustrated noise.

“When students don’t care?” Grantaire finished softly.

Any rants that had been building up in Enjolras’ chest evaporated when his eyes met Grantaire’s.

"Yeah, we’ve all been there,” Jehan said, patting Enjolras’ shoulder and bringing him back to reality. How long had he been staring? “They just need the credits to graduate. But some of them, the ones that do care, they make it worth it.”

Enjolras gave a nod, head spinning a bit. To his relief, Combeferre and Courfeyrac chose that moment to enter, trailed from behind by Marius. With her, Courfeyrac brought stories from gym classes, Bahorel having taken a sick day after developing the flu after having a little too much fun over the weekend.

The lunch was a quieter one, Enjolras letting the others lead the conversation, need to lead one gone. Grantaire and Jehan discussed auditions, Courfeyrac chiming in with absurd ideas.

“Yeah, but, what if they had to sing their audition piece while doing the Charleston.” 

“Courfeyrac, we’re doing _Shakespeare_ not a _musical,”_ Jehan sighed.

“I fail to see how that is relevant. Do you not want to be entertained?”

“This is why you’re not the drama teacher.” Combeferre laughed, giving Courfeyrac a kiss on the nose at her resulting pout.

“Now, I’d pay money to see that-ow!” Grantaire began, until Jehan smacked him with a copy of the complete works of Shakespeare.

“Don’t go giving my job away!”

“I think your position is well-secured, Jehan,” Enjolras interjected, “After that production of Legally Blonde last spring, I think you’re set for life.”

Jehan flushed, freckles darkening around the bridge of their nose.

“Cosette really liked that show!” Marius piped in energetically.

Jehan gave a laugh that tinkled like bells in the small room. “Yes, she did; you told me multiple times. But it’s thanks to you working the budget that we could make it as good as it was.”

This time, Marius blushed and Grantaire sighed dramatically.

“You all make me jealous that I was not here to see such a _tour de force.”_

“You only have more to look forward to in the future, that’s for sure,” Enjolras smiled. But then Grantaire’s eyes met his and what was he saying again?

This time, Enjolras was saved by the bell, and made his way quickly out the door. He hesitated for a moment, a good quarter of the way down the hall, should he wait for Grantaire? They just had a fairly normal conversation, right? Before Enjolras could make up his mind, Grantaire was at his side.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“I didn’t...I don’t... I don’t mind,” Enjolras finally stuttered.

“You alright there?”

“Yeah...”

“Hey, it’s okay if you’re still upset about that punkass kid, you know. It’s a little thing, yeah, but just don’t let it get to you too much? You’re a better teacher than those kids will ever know. They don’t know how lucky they are to have you.”

Enjolras was speechless, but already at his classroom door. Something to say, something to say...

“Thanks, Grantaire.”

Grantaire smiled. “Ending one week with a thanks and beginning the next one with another. You spoil me. Later!” And with a wave of his hand, he was gone and Enjolras was left staring for what seemed like the millionth time in the few days.

** 

The next period was his French III class, which forced him to be engaged enough that it kept his mind off Grantaire (if he never had to explain the difference between the _imparfait_ and the _plus-que-parfait_ again, it would be too soon), but by the last mod with AP French, his mind was beginning to wander again. He set the students to discussion amongst themselves for the last few minutes of class and sat at his desk and pretended to be doing something teacherly.

The bell rang, letting out the students for the day, and while the sound usually made Enjolras relax, now it had him a bit on edge. He felt like something was going to happen, but what or when or Grantaire but-he’d left his water bottle in the break room. Okay, that was a strange train of thought, but maybe that’s why he was so nervous: he’d forgotten something. Never mind it was just his water bottle, of which he had many, and therefore no reason to be concerned. It must be the water bottle making him feel so out-of-sorts.

He waited fifteen or so minutes for the students to stop clogging the hallways, sorting through papers, telling himself he wasn’t in any rush, he had to be there for another half an hour after the students left anyway. But as soon as he stepped towards the doorway, who else did he almost run headfirst into but-

“Grantaire!” Enjolras squeaked out.

“No need to sound so surprised! Just coming back to check on you, make sure you were okay.”

“Oh, I was just going to stop by the break room.” Enjolras stepped around him, out in the hallway, definitely not noticing how close he was to Grantaire or how he smelled of aftershave and cigarettes. 

“So you’re okay?” Grantaire asked again, falling into step beside Enjolras. 

“I think I’m okay.”

“You sure? You look a bit flushed. I can go get Fantine. Probably aren’t any students in the nurse’s office now.” Grantaire’s brow furrowed and he was looking at Enjolras with such _compassion_ and-

All of a sudden something clicked in Enjolras’ brain and he stopped in his tracks.

“I like you!” Enjolras blurted out.

“You what?”

He turned to Grantaire now. “I may not have realized it until this very moment, but I like you. Like a lot,” he finished, a bit louder than he intended in the vacant hallway.

“Okay, I know we are already in a high school physically, but I feel like I am back in high school emotionally right now. You’re going to have to explain.”

Enjolras took a breath and continued. “I care about you. And I think you care about me. I want to be your friend. But I also would not mind being more than that. At some point. If you don’t mind.”

For once, Grantaire was speechless. Then he ran his hair through his curls and oh, Enjolras had never realized how much he wanted to do that until this very moment. And oh, Grantaire was closer to him now and-

“Do you mind if I do this?” Grantaire whispered, his breath on Enjolras’ cheek.

Enjolras shook his head and let out an airy “no” and Grantaire started pressing soft, reverent kisses to his cheek, along his jaw, carefully loosening Enjolras’ tie and pushing aside his collar to better kiss his neck. Enjolras let out a throaty sound as Grantaire’s lips found his pulse. Grantaire removed his mouth to kiss his temple before he resting their foreheads together, mouth only centimeters from Enjolras’ now, though a bit lower. Enjolras had never realized how short Grantaire was or how tall he was or how red Grantaire’s lips were and was this really happening right now? His head was spinning.

“Do you mind...?” Grantaire whispered once more.

Enjolras answered by, finally, pulling Grantaire up to him, slotting their lips together, and pushing him, perhaps a bit too eagerly, against the nearest wall, which was unfortunately lined with lockers.

“Are you okay?” Enjolras broke away, looking a bit concerned. Grantaire returned his look with half-lidded eyes.

“I will be if you start kissing me again.”

Enjolras was not one who liked being told what to do, but in this case, he did not mind one bit. He picked up where he left off, finding himself letting out what he could only classify as a moan as he busied his hands in Grantaire’s hair and Grantaire took his lip between his teeth while somehow finding a way to snake his hands up Enjolras’ sides and-

“Um, Enjolras? I have your water bottle,” an embarrassed voice came from Enjolras’ right. Enjolras sprung apart from Grantaire, the latter stubbornly refusing to remove his hands from Enjolras’ waist, to see a bright red Marius standing awkwardly in the stairwell beside them.

“You left it after lunch and I grabbed it to give to you later. Um,” He glanced at Grantaire, whose clothes were rather disheveled and whose hair was sticking up in at least thirty different directions. “I can come back later...”

“No, that’s fine,” Enjolras said quickly, ignoring how flushed his own face must be and definitely ignoring the tingling sensation where Grantaire was rhythmically rubbing little circles into his hipbone. He took the bottle graciously. “Thank you, Marius.”

Marius gave a nervous gulp. “Anytime.” And in an instant, he was gone as quickly as he had come, stairwell door clanging shut behind him.

Enjolras flopped his head on Grantaire’s shoulder. “Courfeyrac is going to get this out of him, I just know it, and then I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”

Enjolras heard Grantaire’s breath catch as he spoke. “Do you mind that?”

He raised his head to meet Grantaire’s gaze. “You know, I actually really don’t.”

Grantaire smiled. “Well if you don’t, we may want to take our activities somewhere...Less public.”

“And less work-related.” Enjolras agreed, for if the state of Grantaire’s dress was anything to go by, he probably looked pretty debauched himself. The thought sent shivers down his spine.

“I’ve been told I have a nice apartment.”

“Funny, I’ve heard the same.”

“What a small world we live in.”

Enjolras smiled. “And what a wonderful world it is.”

(The three text messages, two calls, and their respective voicemails from Courfeyrac were ignored the rest of the night. And if there were a few more than coincidental jokes about PDA in the break room the rest of the week, neither Enjolras nor Grantaire could be bothered to care.)

**Author's Note:**

> And that's a wrap! I really like high school teachers and always kinda wanted to be best friends with them, so that may have come across here. And my dad is a teacher, so I have been in Courfeyrac's place, reading off grades... It's a fun time.
> 
> This is actually the longest thing I've ever written (14 pages on Google Docs, ouf!) and got way out of hand very quickly. I really like high school teachers. Apparently. Always have to appreciate teachers. :) Definitely got some of my characterizations from some of my past teachers! I also have pretty much what everyone teaches/does mapped out, even if they don't appear. Oops. This universe may get more drabbles/works in the future...
> 
> And as always, feel free to say hi on Tumblr! I'm at [vivelarepublique](http://vivelarepublique.tumblr.com) there, too!
> 
> Anyway, as promised, translations!
> 
>  _Répéter-s’il vous-plait: je suis, tu es, il est, elle est, nous sommes, vous êtes, ils sont, elles sont:_ Essentially just, Repeat after me, please: I am, you are, he is, she is, we are, you are, they are, they are. The conjugation of the verb _être_ , 'to be.' _Avoir,_ mentioned later, is the verb 'to have.' Ah, French I.
> 
>  _“Ah, bonjour, M’sieur Enjolras! Ça va?” ... “Oui, ça va. Mais pourrions-nous parler en anglais aujourd’hui?” ... “Mais bien sûr! Les étudiants not quite living up to your high expectations today?”:_ "Ah, hello, Mr. Enjolras! How are you?" "I'm well. But could we speak in English today?. ... "But of course! The students not quite living up to your high expectations today?"
> 
>  _Bonne chance:_ Good luck.
> 
>  _Le prof charmant mais terrible:_ The charming but terrible teacher. A not-so-subtle Brick reference, as well as the title of this fic.
> 
>  _“Félix, es-tu réveillé?” “Quoi?” ... “ **Pardon** ,” ...“Quittons-nous si tu ne peux pas rester réveillé.”:_: "Felix, are you awake?" "What?" ... " **Excuse me** ," ... "Leave us if you can't stay awake." My French teacher in high school always made a big deal out of the whole quoi/pardon thing. It's stuck with me. This is definitely a French III class, too. That was a rough time.
> 
> If you have any other questions about anything I missed, let me know! :)


End file.
